On the Internet, Nobody Knows You're a Turtle
by probablylostrightnow
Summary: Mikey is hoping to meet his online girlfriend, but her protective sister and the Kraang are in his way. Sequel to "Loves Pizza, Looking for Same."
1. Chapter 1: Sophie

**Chapter 1: Sophie**

The smell from the takeout containers is making my stomach sit up and take notice, so I'm rushing by the time I get home. I sprint up the stairs and into the lobby, grab my mail, and take just a moment to flip through it. I have to squint to read the return addresses. _Half the lights in here must be burned out_._ Have to bug the super about that_. Mail plus takeout containers plus my purse and briefcase means my hands are too full to hit the apartment buzzer. I consider hitting it with my nose, then decide an elbow is a safer bet.

"Who is it?" Jasmine's voice comes over the tinny intercom. She doesn't sound like she's been crying. Maybe she's getting over this whole Mikey thing.

"Just a couple of monkeys, Jazzy," I sing out. Having a passcode was my idea, but the choice of phrase was Jasmine's. My little sister has a weird sense of humor. We'd used "a swarm of rats" for a bit after the rat infestation, but apparently that wasn't traumatic enough for her, so it was back to the monkeys.

"I don't know if I can let monkeys into the apartment. Unless maybe the monkeys happened to bring home some sushi?" Jasmine asks.

"They might have," I allow, heading for the stairs.

Jasmine has the bolts and chain undone and the door cracked open before I reach it. I slip through the door, closing it behind me, to see that she is dressed in a ratty bathrobe, head uncovered. Dammit,Jasmine. I give her my best scowl. "Where's your hood?"

"Oh, sorry, Soph. I didn't think to put it on." Jasmine's ears and nose twitch.

"What's next, curling up in the windows next to Erwin?" Jasmine's tabby loves the windowsills, which is a little unfortunate, since my lease specifies "no pets." "What if one of the neighbors was coming up the stairs and caught a glimpse of you?" My voice is getting louder and louder. "Are you actively trying to get caught?"

"Sophie." She reaches for me with her right hand, then reconsiders and puts her left hand on my arm. "I appreciate that you're trying to keep me safe. But your neighbors are not going to peer in through a one-inch crack in the door and run down the hallways yelling, 'Kitty ears! Kitty ears!'"

I take a deep breath and slowly let it out, like Coach taught me to do when I got too fired up. "Fair enough, sis." I set the takeout containers down on the battered table, then turn to give her a hug. "Sorry I snapped at you there. Kind of a rough day at work."

"We're good," she tells me with a smile that exposes a wicked pair of incisors. I expect her to pounce on the sushi, but instead she turns and heads for the bedroom.

"Hey, wait! Aren't you hungry?"

"Just a moment," she calls back. "I was chatting with Mikey and I should let him know I won't be on for a bit."

"Chatting with _Mikey_?" I follow her as far as the bedroom door, failing to control a wince when I look inside. My room – now Jasmine's – looks like a Superfund cleanup site, with dirty dishes piled in the corners and a carpet of fur coating everything. _Aren't cats supposed to be tidy?_ "I thought you broke that poor boy's heart. Did he really come back for another helping?"

"I told him I was sorry, but that my big sister wouldn't let me come meet him. He said he totally understood how that was, and that he forgave me. Isn't that sweet?"

It's probably good that Jasmine is looking at the screen and not my face. _So I get to be the bad guy here._ Admittedly, I _had_ told her in no uncertain terms that she couldn't meet the boy. Mikey really did seem like a sweet guy, if not the brightest, but there was no way he wouldn't freak at the first sight of Jasmine's bewhiskered, fur-covered face. I open my mouth to remind her of this, then remember last week's conversation. I suggested that Mikey didn't seem to be on her mental level, she brought up Steve the lawyer, I noted that in this apartment he is "that asshole Steve," and the conversation went in unhelpful directions. Hey, I never said I was the perfect role model.

Jasmine is typing away at the keyboard, using only her left hand. She says it's too hard to type with her right hand, the motion tends to extend her claws and they get in the way. I find myself staring at her once again. I always tell myself that I'm just trying to get used to the way she looks now – she's caught me flinching when she does something catlike, like licking her arm or absent-mindedly sharpening her claws on the furniture, and I can see the way she flinches in turn. But I have to admit there's a mix of horror and fascination and guilt in there too.

Budding scientist that she is, she's done a lot of speculation on what happened. She thinks the change started in her right hand where she touched the goo (her name, not mine), then spread up her arm and along her spinal column. (She doesn't talk much about this part, but I also get the impression that it hurt like hell.) Her right arm is pretty much all cat – thinner than it was and covered in thick fur, black on the top, white on the bottom. Her left arm looks pretty much unchanged – there's more hair, but her light coffee-colored skin is still visible, a few shades lighter than mine. (I guess she got more of Dad's white genes along with his science-nerd genes. I favor Mom on both counts.)

And then there's the tail. I admit, I still have a really hard time coping with the tail, especially its tendency to twitch. At least Jazz has better control of it now. Replacing all the broken glasses was getting old.

Jasmine finishes typing and turns away from the keyboard with a smile. "He says that he and his brothers are going out to fight alien robots anyway. Mikey cracks me up!" The computer beeps, and she glances back at the screen. I can hear that she's frowning now when she says, "Oh, another message from Kraig. Look, dude, I'm not going to message you back, go away."

"Who's this?" I ask warily. One of my perennial worries is that one of Jasmine's Internet contacts will start stalking her, but it's the only social contact she has and I can't... won't... take that away.

"He's some creeper who's spent the day sending me messages. He has the weirdest syntax. He's probably not a native English speaker, so I know I shouldn't make fun, but he is giving me the creeps so maybe it's fair. Listen to this: 'The one known as Jasmine should engage in the activity known as dating with Kraig. The one known as Jasmine shall be having what is known as a good time.'"

I shudder as dramatically as I can. "Always avoid guys who tell you what kind of time you should be having. I do really wish you hadn't used your real name on that site, Jazz."

Jasmine shrugs. "It's not as if I'm the only Jasmine in the boroughs. I'm careful, I don't tell anyone my last name or where I live. Plus, Mikey says he clicked on me at first because I have a pretty name." She rose and stretched, arching her back. "Time for sushi?"

"I thought you'd never ask," I said as the phone rang. "Crap. Go ahead and get started without me, OK?" I pick up the receiver. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end is male and crisp. "Hello. May I speak to Ms. Sophie Walker?"

"Speaking," I say, trying to place the voice. It doesn't sound like anyone from the parade of exes, and I haven't given a guy my number since Jasmine moved in two months ago.

"This is Agent Bishop with the Federal Bureau of Investigation," he says. "I am hoping to interview you and your sister about your father's disappearance."

Now he's got one hundred percent of my attention. I glance at Jasmine, who is tearing into the raw fish but definitely listening to my end of the conversation, and duck into her room, making an effort not to trip over a pile of laundry. Mental note: I need to run to the laundromat sometime soon. It's not as if I can send Jasmine.

"Yes? Do you have a lead on Dad?" I call the police twice a week, but they don't seem to be getting anywhere. But what does the frigging FBI have to do with this?

"Possibly. I'm not sure yet. It would be very helpful for my investigation if I could talk to you and your sister."

If he asks her questions about Dad's research, or her whereabouts the days after he disappeared... I don't like where that could lead. "My sister and I gave lengthy statements to the police. I'd like to help, but I really don't think there's anything else I could tell you."

There is a pause, then he continues smoothly. "I'm working on a case that may be connected to your father's disappearance. The New York City police may not... be able to see the full picture here. If you and your sister come in and talk with me, it could be very helpful in recovering your father."

Oh _hell_ no. "You can't just talk to us over the phone?" I want to smack my forehead. _Way to convince him you have nothing to hide, Sophie_.

"There are some... documents and images I would like to share with you. They are confidential, so I can't transmit them to you. I would be happy to meet with the two of you at a time that's convenient for you."

He's smooth and I have an increasingly bad feeling about this. "I really can't put my sister through that. All of this has been really difficult and traumatic for her. But I could come in and talk to you..."

"I'm afraid that would not be as helpful. As I understand it, you have been at odds with your father for years. You even changed your last name. In contrast, Jasmine was living at home and had daily contact with your father. She is more likely to recognize a face or a name."

He might as well have punched me in the gut. How much does this man know about us? "Jasmine's well-being is my first priority. She's been through enough trauma at this point. I'm afraid that my answer is no."

"I hope you reconsider, Ms. Walker. Your father's life isn't the only one hanging in the balance here."

_Was that a threat?_ "Goodbye," I tell him, and press the OFF button on the phone. I realize that my hand is shaking and sweat is pooling in my armpits. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself. _Thanks, Coach_. Once I feel more composed, I head back out to the outer room and put the phone back in its cradle.

The table is a scene of carnage. The sashimi never knew what hit it. Jasmine raises her head, licks her lips, and asks, "What was that about?"

"Nothing important," I lie, sitting down and rooting through the carnage for my maki. "Some decisions about your trust fund I needed to approve." Dad may have been an unsupportive jerk who disapproved of every single choice I made in my entire life, but he did make sure that I would be able to take care of Jasmine if anything happened to him, and I love him a little bit for that.

Jasmine cocks her head to one side and gives me a long look. "Don't take up playing poker, Sophie."

"Whaaa?" I respond articulately.

"You have the worst poker face in the universe. Plus I can see your hand is still shaking a little. Plus I could hear your entire end of the conversation – these are pretty sensitive," she says, pointing at her ears.

"OK, OK. Some guy who said he was with the FBI and wants to talk with you about Dad. But he was really insistent about talking to you in person, and he gave me a really bad feeling."

"A guy who gives you a bad feeling right away? He must really be the worst," Jasmine said, unable to suppress a toothy smirk.

"Well, I wasn't planning to date him," I say, relaxing a little. Jasmine has always been good at distracting me when I'm upset about something. "It does make me worry, though. Ever since that reporter – Kurtzman? – stopped nosing around, the only calls I've gotten about you have been pretty routine. The trust fund, school, and such."

"I finished two more MOOCs today," Jasmine noted. "I don't know why anyone bothers sitting in classrooms anymore."

I attempt to visualize my clients attempting to navigate a Massive Open Online Course, but decide I don't want to be diverted into this argument again. "So how did the time spent on MOOCs compare with the time spent napping?"

Jasmine uses her clawed hand to bat Erwin away from her sushi. "Hey, MOOCs are all about getting rid of obsolete ideas like 'seat time.' Fossils like you need to embrace the future."

"One more crack like that and I'll show you who's a fossil," I say, poking Jasmine in the ribs. She pokes back, and that pretty much puts an end to any semblance of serious conversation.

After dinner, Jasmine goes back to the computer and I lie on the couch, half-reading the paper and half-watching a volleyball game. I'm still a little worried about Bishop. _Tomorrow I'll look at apartment listings. Just in case_. Penn State is up 2 sets to 1 when I click off the television, turn off the light, and pull a blanket over me. The light's out in Jasmine's room, but I'm sure she'll be at the computer for several hours yet.

I drift off into uneasy dreams in which FBI Agent Bishop has me cornered in an alley. When he walks up to me, he turns out to be that asshole Steve. Bishop/Steve tries to use his rational-argument skills to talk me into handing over Jasmine. For some reason, dream me does not respond by punching him in the face.

#

I groan when the alarm goes off, then smack it into silence before it can wake Jasmine. I can hear her half-snoring, half-purring as I drag myself to the coffeemaker, pull a clean shirt and pair of slacks out of the dresser wedged in the corner next to the table, and try to make myself presentable for work. When I glance in at Jasmine, she is curled up on the bed against a mound of piled-up blankets, with her chin tucked against her chest. I hate to disturb her, but the deadbolt isn't going to lock itself, so I put a gentle hand on her shoulder. Instantly, she is awake, eyes wide open and staring.

"Soph! What's wrong?"

I rub her shoulder reassuringly. It's not as strange as it was to feel the smooth, soft fur. "It's just time for me to leave. Can you get the door?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, sorry. I think I was having a bad dream."

"Anything you want to talk about?" I ask.

"No, just a dream." I've heard her cry out in her sleep sometimes, but she's never been willing to talk about it. Then again, I'm not about to share the Agent Steve dream with her, either. She stumbles the few feet to the apartment door, and I give her a quick hug.

"Now remember, let the answering machine pick up if the phone rings, and don't answer the buzzer unless I've called to tell you I'm on my way. OK?" I know I've given this warning fifty times already and there's no need to repeat it, but I can't help myself. She just nods and gives me a quick squeeze. I close the door and head down the stairs to catch the train.

I work as a case manager assistant in an elder care office, setting up and conducting interviews with new clients, making follow-up phone calls, and doing paperwork. Lots and lots of paperwork. It's not quite what I'd envisioned when I was getting my Social Work degree, but I've been doing it for three years now, and on good days I feel like I'm helping make a difference for someone. On bad days I wonder if Dad was right and my A.S. wasn't worth the paper it's printed on. He didn't even come to my graduation.

The office is hectic today, and I don't have a chance to call home until my lunch break. The answering machine picks up after four rings. I know it's my voice on the thing, but it always sounds strange. "Hello, you've reached Sophie Walker..."

I interrupt the message. "Hi, me, it's me. Jasmine around anywhere?"

"Hi, Sophie," Jasmine's voice comes over the phone.

"How are you doing?"

"All right," Jasmine answers. "Mikey's having a rough day. He lost a good friend, and he says he's not sure he'll ever see him again."

That sets off alarm bells. Carl told me a very similar story when he was trying to get me into bed. Where by "story" I mean "pack of bald-faced lies," by "trying" I mean "succeeding," and by "Carl" I mean "that asshole Carl."

"He's not trying to get you to do anything, is he? Or trying again to get you to meet him?"

"Sophie," Jasmine says reproachfully. "Mikey's not Carl." OK, when the hell did I tell my baby sister that story? _Why_ the hell did I tell my baby sister that story? I strongly suspect that alcohol was involved. Jasmine continues, "I sent him a bunch of kitten GIFs until he told me to stop because he was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe."

God dammit, my little sister is better at relationships than I am. I'm almost starting to root for these two. _But it's never going to happen. And whose fault is that?_ The familiar litany of thoughts starts up in my head. _I should have known she would go check out the lab. I should have stopped her. Or gone with her_. _Or done anything except tell her, "The police will deal with it," and go to work. Which is what I did._

"Uh, Soph, you still there?" Jasmine asks.

She's got enough to deal with without shouldering my guilt issues as well. "Sorry, Jazz. Just thinking about too many things at once." Fortunately, my total lack of a poker face is less of an issue on the phone.

"Oh – one thing I should let you know about, but don't freak out. This girl was knocking at the apartment door this morning," Jasmine said.

"WHAT?" My boss Norma gives me a reproachful look from across the room.

"Calm down! It's not a big deal. I heard the buzzer go a few times but I didn't answer. Then I heard knocking, so I took a look through the peephole. Someone else must have let her in. She had a bunch of brochures for some school fundraising drive, selling cakes or something. I didn't answer and she went away after a bit."

"What did she look like?" I ask. It seems unlikely that she is FBI Agent Bishop, but I still feel rattled.

"Skinny white girl, red hair, my age or maybe a little younger?"

She would have stuck out like a sore thumb in my apartment building. "Do you want me to come home?" I ask.

"No, sis, you do not have to come protect me from the skinny white girl. Erwin might be able to knock her over in a pinch." Jasmine laughs, and the laugh sounds genuine.

Nonetheless, I am nervous, and after a few moments of thought I pick up the phone and call Nikki. She picks up on the fourth ring. "Hey, Nikki, it's Sophie."

"Sophie? Do I know a Sophie? I think I used to play basketball with a Sophie, once upon a time..."

"You're a laugh and a half, Nikki, I was there last week. But Jasmine's not doing well and I want to head home after work. Think the team can manage without me?"

Nikki sighed. "Who's going to commit stupid fouls without you there?"

"OK, I'll give you two laughs, but no more. See you next week." I hang up the phone a little more forcefully than I mean to. I haven't fouled out in _months_. Weeks, at least.

I spend most of the afternoon on the phone. A lot of our clients are calling in with respiratory problems, and I do my best to help them out. When the phone rings around 4 pm, it takes me a moment of staring at the caller ID before I realize _that's my number_. I grab the phone and almost drop it getting it to my ear. Jasmine never calls me at work. "Jasmine? Is everything OK?"

She sounds shaken. "Yeah, I'm fine, just a little weirded out. Kraig is messaging me again and the messages are getting creepier."

I start throttling the phone. "What do they say?"

Jasmine reads shakily, "'The one known as Jasmine will be looking forward to meeting with the one that is Kraig. The location that is Jasmine's location and the location that is Kraig's location will be the same location at a time which is very soon.'"

I unleash a torrent of invective in the direction of the phone, then realize where I am and look around the office nervously. Norma's not looking daggers at me, at least. "Jasmine, block him right away."

"That's the other weird thing. I thought I already did, and when I bring up the options he's marked as blocked, but I keep getting these messages anyway." She sounds more perplexed than alarmed.

My heart is hammering an alarm but I reach for a calm voice. "I'm coming right home, Jasmine. Make sure all the blinds are closed and whatever you do, do not unlock the door until you can see me through the peephole. It's going to be OK, sis." I don't think I'm sounding very convincing.

I stammer something at Norma, no idea what, and tear out of the office. I hope like hell that this Kraig guy is only trying to get a rise out of her. How can he know where she lives? But I want to make absolutely certain that he's going to have to go through me before he can get to my baby sister. And if he tries, he's going to find out just how hard a foul I can deliver.


	2. Chapter 2: Donatello

**Chapter 2: Donatello**

April gasps as the images from the Kraang data storage device fill the screen. "They're after me?"

_Should I comfort her? Put a hand on her shoulder? I'm at an awkward angle in this chair, should I stand up first? _Donnie is still debating when, somewhat to his chagrin, Splinter places his hand on April's shoulder instead. "I trust you know, April, that we will never allow them to take you. Donatello, this is a surprise. Have you been able to recover any further information from this... machine?"

"No, Sensei. But..." he's really talking to April now "... I promise I will keep looking."

April's mouth still hangs open, and Donnie finds himself staring at her face. _Shock and exhaustion don't make her any less beautiful... focus, Donnie, focus! How am I going to talk to Leo and April alone?_ _Hmm... Mikey and Sensei probably won't stick around for a technical discussion._

He raises one hand to his mouth. A deep yawn comes naturally. "I think I'm too tired to do much more tonight, guys. Uh, before you go, April, do you mind taking a quick look at some of these data structures with me? I'd like to hear your ideas."

Raph smirks, "Oooh. Data structures." _How does he make that sound dirty? _Donnie throws a half-hearted punch at his arm, then gets a smack in return that makes him yelp.

"It is past time for me to retire for the night," says Splinter. "My sons, be sure to rest. I sense there will be many difficult battles ahead."

Leo beckons Mikey and Raph. "Come on, guys. Let's give the nerds some space to do their nerd thing."

"Doin' the nerd thing, oh yeah," Mikey sings along to a soundtrack that only he can hear. Then, a little too casually, "Oh, Donnie, can I use your laptop?"

_At least this should keep him out of our shells_. Donnie snaps, "Remember, no pizza. Or other food. Or drink. Or drooling," and reluctantly hands the computer over. Then, as his brothers follow Splinter toward the laboratory door, he adds, "Hey, Leo. I'd actually like you to take a quick look at this data too."

Leo gives Donnie a quizzical look and shakes his head. "I really don't think I'll be much help with the tech stuff. I'd was thinking I'd, ah, work on developing my leadership skills."

"By which he means, watch that stupid show," Raph scoffs .

"Leo," Donnie repeated, spacing out the words and carefully emphasizing each. "I would really like you to stay here and take a quick look at this."

Raph gives Donnie a sharp look. Mikey, gripping Donnie's laptop tightly, seems blissfully oblivious to the exchange as he continues out the door. Donnie almost thinks he sees little hearts drifting above his brother's head. _I must be even more tired than I realized_. After a moment, Raph shrugs and follows Mikey.

"All right, Donnie," Leo says when they go. "This had better not be about data structures."

"Keep your voice down," Donnie hisses. "We need to talk about Mikey and Jasmine."

"Mikey's Internet girlfriend?" April asks. "I thought she stood Mikey up and broke his heart." She had missed the events in question, but Donnie had told her everything afterward. "Though he does seem to be doing better."

Leo leans into Donnie's face, frowning, eyes narrowed. "Donnie, we just lost an ally and had a mission fall apart completely, all on my watch. I've got my mind on more important things than Mikey's current relationship status."

"This is actually really important." _Whoops, that came out as a shout_. He sucks in a breath, willing himself to keep calm. "I think the Kraang are after her."

"The Kraang are what?" Leo and April ask together. _Great, maybe someone in Queens didn't hear that._

"Keep it down!" Donnie repeats. _Also too loud_.

"Why would the Kraang be after Mikey's girlfriend? And how would you know if they were?" Leo asks, sounding incredulous but quieter.

"So... after we originally found out that Mikey was using the laptop to chat with her..." Donnie begins tentatively. "I wrote a script to monitor what he was doing on it."

Leo winces, and April bites her lower lip, staring down. Donnie follows her gaze to the bulge of her custom-built T-phone. _Oh no no no_. "April, I didn't put any software on your phone. Well, I mean, there's software on it, and I put it there, cause I built the phone. But not monitoring software! Your phone can't spy on you! I mean, I guess if I found a way to trace the signal it could be used to spy on you, but it would never even occur to me to do that! OK, it just occurred to me, but I still wouldn't do it! I didn't do it !" He sputters to a halt, belatedly aware that he should have stopped a while ago. April is looking at her hip as if a snake might leap out of her pocket at any minute .

"So you decided to spy on Mikey because...?" Leo asks sardonically.

_Because the analysis of the Kraang device was taking forever and I was afraid I wouldn't find anything. Because I was curious. Because I can't understand how Mikey can get a girl he's never met to call herself his girlfriend, when I can't get there with April._

"We're waiting," Leo adds, with a little smirk. _I think he's actually enjoying this . _

"You were the one who said that chatting with Mikey might put Jasmine in danger," Donnie says defensively. "I just wanted to make sure he wasn't saying anything to put her... or us... in danger."

April offers him an awkward smile at that, and Donnie relaxes a bit.

"So where do the Kraang come in?" Leo prompts.

Donnie taps at his keyboard, and the file he transferred from the laptop appears on the monitor. "So Mikey and Jasmine were talking, he told her he forgives her, he mentions going off to fight alien robots..."

Leo stiffens. "Mikey, Mikey. I'll have to talk to him about the concept of 'secrets.' Just as soon as I figure out how to explain that you've been reading all his private conversations."

"I'm really just skimming! Looking for key words..." Donnie gulps air and gets back on track. "Anyway, they were also talking about some guy who keeps messaging Jasmine. His name is Kraig – though Mikey's spelling isn't very consistent – and he writes really odd messages with a lot of unnecessary words. Sound familiar?"

"You're getting Kraang from, 'His name starts with a K and ends with a G and he talks funny?' Donnie, I think you're jumping at shadows," Leo says.

"I wasn't sure at that point," Donnie admits, "and I could only read Mikey's side of the conversation. So... I hacked into Jasmine's account so I could read her messages from Kraig."

_If Leo and April's eyes could fire lasers_, Donnie thinks, _I'd be a pile of dust right now _. He holds both hands up, 6 fingers spread wide. "I couldn't risk Mikey's girlfriend being in danger, could I? What else would you have suggested? If I mentioned any of this to Mikey, he'd go tearing across town to 'rescue' her and then we'd have a real mess on our hands."

"So what did you find?" Leo asks , with a resigned-sounding sigh.

"Here's one of his messages." Donnie reads, "The one known as Kraig is being interested by the profile of the one known as Jasmine. Kraig is also enjoying the activity of walking in the light of what you call the moon."

Leo's tone is flat and resigned. "Yup, that's the Kraang."

"Why would they be interested in Mikey's girlfriend?" April asks. She's looking over Donnie's shoulder now, scanning the messages on the monitor, her curiosity appearing to have fully overcome her indignation . _I sure hope so _. _I wouldn't have done it if I hadn't thought Jasmine was in danger_. A little voice corrected, _you started doing it before you had a reason to think she was in danger_.

"Maybe they know she's Mikey's girlfriend? They probably hacked into the dating site too." Leo suggests.

"Their security _is_ startlingly bad," Donnie notes disapprovingly.

"So what do we do now?" Leo asks. _Leo doesn't have a plan? This night really has been hard on him. _"If we tell Mikey, he'll go berserk. If we try to message her directly, she has no reason to trust or believe us. And we don't know where she lives, or even if Jasmine is her real name."

"Actually..." Donnie clears his throat. _Oh good, the laser eyes are making a return appearance._ "I, ah, was able to trace her logins to .COM and I'm pretty sure I have her address." He taps a few more keys to bring it up on the screen.

"That's not too far from my aunt's place," April says. "I can stop by in the morning on my way to school."

"Would you?" Donnie asks gratefully. "Ahhh... if you warn her about alien robots, she probably won't believe you..."

April's eyes look as bright as stars to Donnie. "At least, I can try to find out if she lives there."

Leo adopts the Captain Ryan Voice (as April and Donnie call it, though not to his face). "Then tonight, the four of us stake the place out, and if the Kraang show up, we stop them."

"We're bringing Mikey?" Donnie asks.

"Do you think trying to ditch him is a better idea? We tell him that we're looking out for the Kraang because we got a tip they were going to hit this building. We don't tell him that it's where his girlfriend lives. That's the last thing we need."

#

A loud fanfare of trumpets blasts Donnie awake after too few hours of sleep. _What? What's going on?_ It takes him a moment to realize that the sound is coming from his T-phone. He fumbles for the phone; by the time he has it in his hand, all three of his brothers are in the doorway, looking both sleepy and cranky. Raph is growling in a way that reminds Donnie of a bottle about to explode from built-up pressure.

He gives an apologetic shrug. "Text message from April," he offers by way of explanation.

"What a great reason to wake us all up!" Raph snarls.

"Could you maybe find a more subtle alert sound?" Leo asks.

"I dreamed there was a flock of dancing pigs, and they were so cute, and suddenly this horrible noise drove them all away," Mikey mourns.

Donnie tunes them all out – he has plenty of practice, though the flock of pigs is hard to let go – and reads the text. "found building but couldn't get into apartment. name on mailbox was s. walker. ill try again after school." He tries to give a subtle shrug in Leo's direction, then realizes that "subtle shrug" is a little too nuanced for the early hour.

Leo grabs Mikey's hand. "Come on, Mikey, why don't you make us some breakfast?" He heads down the hallway with Mikey in tow. Reminiscences about dancing pigs fade in the distance.

Raph hangs back in the doorway. "So, Donnie. Are you going to tell me what's going on, or do I need to beat it out of you?" He cracks his knuckles to emphasize the words.

"We think the Kraang are after Mikey's girlfriend." Donnie gives an abbreviated version of his explanation from the previous night.

"And you aren't telling Mikey because you're afraid he might run off and do something stupid? Er. Stupider than usual?"

"Yup." He and Raph disagree about a lot of things, but their estimation of Mikey's capabilities isn't one of them.

"All right, I'll keep my mouth shut," Raph says.

_I hope you will_, Donnie thinks, remembering the old saying about three turtles keeping a secret.

But throughout that day's training session, not a word is said about Jasmine or the Kraang. Donnie struggles to keep his mind on the sparring, blocks, strikes, and jumps. _Is it time for April to check in yet?_ _Why is my heart hammering? Am I worried that she'll get into trouble? Or am I so far gone that just the thought of a text or call from her has me this..._

"DONATELLO! Where is your focus?" Sensei's stick cracks down on Donnie's head. He sits down hard, and for a moment all thought comes to a stop. He struggles to his feet and dodges out of the way of the next blow.

Training has just wrapped up when Donnie's phone starts playing the cheerful little chiptune he swapped in for the trumpets. He snatches the phone up and has it at his ear in one fluid motion. "April?" he asks.

Leo and Raph both look up, clearly attentive to the conversation. Mikey makes smooching noises in the background.

"Hey, Donnie." April sounds out of breath.

"Is everything OK?" _Stop getting shrill, voice _.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just got to do a little jogging I hadn't planned on, is all."

"What happened?" Donnie's voice is stubbornly insubordinate.

"I was heading into the apartment building and this woman came charging in behind me. I saw her glance at the 'S. Walker' mailbox, so I asked if she knew Jasmine. Next thing I knew, she was taking a swing at me, so I got out of there."

"Are you hurt? I can be right there." Donnie starts moving toward the kitchen, mentally inventorying all their medical supplies.

"I told you, I'm fine. She was big, but I was faster."

"Do you think she might be..." Donnie looks up at Mikey "... uh, the... person... we're looking for?"

April makes a _yeccch_ noise. "I hope not. She was old, Donnie – maybe in her mid-twenties ? Way too old for Mikey, for sure. Taller than you and built like a brick wall, so be careful if you tangle with her."

_I'm glad she cares about my well-being, but does she really think I'll have trouble with someone who can't land a punch on her?_ "I'm pretty sure we can take her if we have too."

"That _is_ what you said about the lab monkey," April notes.

Oooh, that still hurt. Donnie tries not to let it show in his voice. "Are you headed over to the lair?"

"I don't think so, Donnie. I've got a paper to write and a French test to study for. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow."

They say their goodbyes, and Donnie hangs up the phone to find Mikey has taken up position by his elbow. "So, Donnie, how is your _girlfriend_?"

"How's yours?" Donnie snaps. _Whoops_.

"Um... what? She stood me up, remember? Haven't talked to her since." Mikey is staring down at his feet as he shifts his weight from one foot to another.

_He could star in a How To Lie Badly instructional video, _Donnie thinks. "Right. Yes. Sorry to bring up the painful subject, Mikey ." He winces at the words coming out of his mouth. _I could probably co-star_.

"You'll have to make it up to me, dude. Can I borrow your laptop ?" Mikey's eyes are like a puppy's.

_OK, I would have to get second billing. He really thinks this won't make me suspicious?_ Donnie hands over the laptop and heads for the lab. _Let's see what more I can coax out of the Kraang data storage device before we head out for the night_.

The answer proves to be "nothing," and Donnie is happy to head for the turnstiles when Leo says it's time to go. The four brothers trudge toward the surface in uncharacteristic silence. _I hope this goes better than last night. Even if it does – protecting Mikey's girlfriend isn't going to close that portal, or bring Leatherhead back_. He suspects that Leo and Raph are having similar thoughts. As for Mikey, Donnie gave up on speculating about what Mikey is thinking long ago.

As the turtles scramble up to the rooftops, Mikey breaks the silence by singing the theme song from "Space Heroes," loudly and off-key. Leo and Raph shush him; when the singing starts up again, Leo snaps, "Shut it, Mikey." Mikey's face droops into a pout. Usually the turtles enjoy running and jumping from roof to roof, but today no one seems to feel like showing off, and the fresh air seems a bit stale.

As the turtles approach Jasmine's apartment building – _I hope it really is Jasmine's apartment building_ – Leo scrambles up onto a piece of ductwork for a better view. He motions the brothers to stop and drops back down to the rooftop, frowning. "Bad news. The Kraang are already here."

"Doesn't sound like bad news to me," Raph snarls, making a fist against his cupped hand.

Leo glares at Raph, and for a second Donnie really expects fists to fly, but then Leo looks away, toward the apartment building. "There are two Kraang standing guard by the door, and a white van which probably has more Kraang in it. We have to assume they're inside as well. Mikey, Raph, you take the ones by the door. Donnie, you're with me – we go straight in and take down any Kraang in the lobby. Got it?"

His brothers nod. Donnie has to admit that he's impressed by how quickly Leo can put together a plan. _Even if "there are some Kraang and we need to get rid of them" is not the most complex situation ever encountered._

"Mikey, you've got it?" Leo asks again.

"Yes, Leo, I can handle 'get the Kraang by the door,'" Mikey says, still sounding sullen.

"And keep it quiet, guys. We don't want an audience for this," Leo adds. "On three... one, two, three!"

The four turtles rush forward and spring down from the roof into the street. As Mikey and Raph dart to engage the two Kraang on guard, Donnie follows Leo up the stairs and through a dingy door into a dimly-lit lobby. Two more Kraang droids, dressed in the usual coat and tie, start to turn towards them, the one on the right pulling its finger away from a buzzer. Leo heads for the one on the left. _That means the one on the right is mine._

_Don't think, act_. His body falls into familiar rhythms. Twirling his staff, he sends the Kraang's gun flying away. The robot reaches for Donnie's bo, but he pulls it back and sweeps the droid's legs out from under it. It crashes to the floor, and Donnie reverses his staff and jabs the metal end through its head. Circuitry sparks, then the robot twitches and lies still. The Kraang controlling it bursts from its torso and scuttles for the door, emitting the usual angry, chattering whine. Donnie twirls the staff again and bashes it across the head, and it slumps to the floor .

He has been distantly aware of Leo driving the other droid back and cleaving it into sparking hunks of metal and fake flesh. _I wonder what that stuff is. I should really take a look at it under the microscope sometime. Probably not right after eating_. He turns to Leo. "This one had its finger on the buzzer, and the inner door looks intact. I don't think they've made it any further into the building."

Leo nods in agreement. "Why don't we-"

A cry of "Booyakasha!" sounds outside; at the same time, Donnie and Leo hear the sound of heavy footsteps from further inside the building. Leo scowls. "So much for 'keep it quiet.' I'll see what's going on outside, you see who's coming." He gestures Donnie into the shadows – they are plentiful in the lobby – and runs back out into the street.

Donnie slips into a dark corner as a figure bursts through the inner door. Peering in the dim light, he sees a black woman, taller than himself, muscular, holding a baseball bat in one hand and glaring about her. _This must be the one who threw a punch at April. The one she thought was too dangerous for me to tangle with_.

The thought impels him out of the shadows. He steps forward, his staff at the ready, his eyes on the bat and her face. She sees him, and her eyes widen with shock. _No need for a fight here. _"We don't mean you any-" he begins.

Just too late to dodge, he sees the canister she's bringing up in her left hand. Burning pain bursts across his face, though his nictitating membranes snap closed in time to spare his eyes. He gasps for breath, and the fire follows the air into his mouth and lungs. Donnie bursts into agonized coughing, slumping forward. It's almost a relief when he feels the blow to his head, and then nothing at all.


	3. Chapter 3: Sophie

**Chapter 3: Sophie**

I'm reassuring Jasmine that I'm on my way when a thought occurs to me. "Did you get out the ta-" I look around the crowded subway car and stop myself just in time. "You know, the special present I got you?"

"_Sophie._ If anyone shows up at the door, I'm sure I'll have time to dig it out."

"You can't be sure of that!" People are starting to stare and a few are shifting away from me. I make an effort to moderate my volume. "Remember what happened last time?"

"Kraig isn't going to turn out to be a giant monkey, Soph. But fine, if it'll make you feel better, I'm getting the taser now."

I take a deep breath. "Good. Good. It's going to be OK, Jasmine. Don't worry."

"You're doing all the worrying, sis. I'm glad you're coming home, but I know it's probably nothing."

If Kraig does show up, what will buy her some time? "You should put the couch up against the door. Have you put the couch up against the door?"

"No, I have not moved the couch, because it weighs a ton." Jasmine sounds a little irritated.

"That's why it should be up against the door!" I know on some level that I'm not helping the situation any, but I can't stop the words from coming out of my mouth.

I hear a theatrical sigh over the phone. "OK, but I'll have to put down the phone. And the taser. Unless I'm supposed to hold it in my teeth while I move the couch?"

That really doesn't sound like a good idea. "I'll hold on. If you need anything, yell and I'll hear you."

I hear a thumping noise, followed by a series of dragging, scraping noises. I tell myself that it's the sound of Jasmine moving the couch, not the sound of Kraig knocking her unconscious and dragging her out of the room.

I am perfectly aware that I'm paranoid. But after getting a phone call from my little sister that some kind of ape was pounding on her door? After frantically driving off the ape with pepper spray just before it reached her? Not to mention, after my father mysteriously disappeared, and the same little sister went to investigate and wound up part cat? Who _wouldn't_ be paranoid about their sister's safety?

I start breathing again when I hear Jasmine's voice. "Couch... is moved." She's panting a little. "Claws tore some holes in the fabric. Sorry about that."

She doesn't know how much worse that couch has been through. "Don't worry about it. Two more stops to go, Jasmine, I'll be right there... But listen, if someone starts trying to get through the door, you should be ready to block the bedroom door too."

"Sophie, could you make up your mind whether you want to reassure me or stress me out? Cause right now, this conversation is giving me whiplash."

Another deep breath. I should really buy them in bulk. "Sorry. Just… worried."

"Everything's OK here." Now who is reassuring who? "Tell me about your day, Sophie. Anything interesting happen at work?"

She must really want to distract me. I know perfectly well that Jasmine finds my job about as interesting as dog food. "Hmmm. Would you rather hear about intake interviews, or paperwork?"

"I'll take that as a 'nothing interesting,' then. Norma give you a hard time about anything?"

I struggle to come up with something to say about office politics, settling for complaining about Ben in the next cubicle and his unending and loud gum-chewing habit. This occupies me until the train reaches my stop. "I'm getting off the train, Jasmine. I'm going to put the phone away so I can run, but I'll leave the line open so you can yell if anything happens, OK?"

"Sure, I'll yell if anything happens. Which it _won't_."

I slip through the doors as soon as the open, squeeze past the crowd on the stairs, and race down the street, wishing I was wearing my basketball shoes instead of the office ones. Storming up the stairs into the lobby, I glance reflexively at my mailbox, and then jump when I realize someone is there in the shadows. The figure steps forward and I take a moment to look her over. I see a little red-haired girl with a ponytail, holding a math book.

"Excuse me, but do you know Jasmine?" Her voice is strident and a bit peremptory, as if she's giving an order she expects me to follow. "She's in my math class, and we were going to get together to study."

The hell? Jasmine has been home-schooled for years and was too shy to have any real friends at school before that. Plus, if she needed help with math, she would probably need to email Stephen Hawking or something. Whatever's showing on my face causes the girl to immediately start backpedaling. Dammit, maybe I _should_ learn to play poker. I stick with the skills I _do_ have and lunge at her; once I have her pinned down, I should be able to get some answers out of her.

She does some sort of fancy sideways roll, much faster than I expected, and I smash the arm I meant to pin her with into the wall. The pain leaves me dizzy for just a moment. I've always been good at playing through pain, but when I recover, she's already disappearing out the door into the street. I want to chase her down, but I won't outrun her in these clothes. Besides, I know where chasing a white girl through busy New York City streets is likely to lead. Mom raised me with at least that much sense. I remind myself that the important thing right now is to get to Jasmine. Red will have to wait.

I get up to the apartment door and call to Jasmine, but it takes her a few minutes to drag the couch away from the door. I spend the time frantically pacing back and forth. Red's appearance makes it clear that at least one person is actively looking for Jasmine, but there are too many things that I don't know. Who is Red and what's her interest in Jasmine? Does Kraig really know where we live? How does Agent Bishop fit into all of this? I don't have any of the answers, and I don't know how to get them. I feel like I'm stuck on defense with no way to get on offense.

I'm stomping loudly enough that Marla from across the hall opens the door and peers out through her thick glasses to see what's going on. I must be glaring because she gets one look at my face and promptly closes the door again. Jasmine finally gets our door open and I fly through it and envelop her in a hug. She wraps her arms around me. Her claws are digging into my back and my arm throbs where it hit the wall and I don't care about any of that. "I'm here, Jazz. Everything's going to be OK."

She releases me, steps back, and gets a good look at my arm. I feel wetness and realize that blood is trickling down it. "Sophie, what happened to you?" she asks.

"It's fine, I just banged it into the wall a little." She's looking at me skeptically, her whiskers twitching. I'd better tell her what happened. "This girl – probably the one you saw earlier – was down in the lobby, said she was looking for you. I tried to grab her and it didn't work out so well."

Jasmine gives a disapproving frown. "You should put something on those cuts. Maybe some ice on the arm, too."

"Now who's the big sister here?" She has a good point, though, and I head for the bathroom, Jasmine trailing after me. I glance over my shoulder to see her chewing on her lip and absent-mindedly petting her right arm with her other hand. I turn back to her and reach over to scratch the top of her head. "Everything will be all right, Jazz."

Her lip is quivering. "I just... I feel kind of like a caged animal here. And knowing that girl was looking for me... It makes me wonder who else knows I'm here. What are we going to do?"

If we have to play defense, we don't have to play it on their terms. "I think you should pack up your things, Jasmine. We need to find a safer place for right now."

"Where?"

"I'm working on that."

She narrows her eyes, but disappears into her room. I take a moment to rub disinfectant on my cuts, my mind racing. Where can I take Jasmine? Who do I dare to involve in this? I'm pretty sure my mental list of "People I Can Trust With Jasmine's Secret" has zero names on it.

Nikki? She's probably the closest friend I have. When I've needed someone to go drinking with, or complain about men to, or watch a game with, Nikki's always been there for me. She's also one hell of a gossip who's blabbed just about every secret I ever told her. I can't trust her with one this big.

I don't really have other close friends, and I'm certainly not prepared to hand Jasmine's secret to an acquaintance and see how they react. I'm on cordial terms with everyone at work, but if I told Norma we were in trouble and needed a place to stay... at best, there would be a lot of hard questions. Not the way to keep Jasmine safe.

One of the parade of exes? Ha ha ha, no. If I decide we need to make the situation even worse, I'll give one of them a call.

The police? They were no help at all with Dad, and I really don't want them to know about Jasmine. Anyway, I don't have anything they'd take seriously.

Jasmine's "boyfriend?" Mikey seems sweet, but hapless, and I'm not about to seek shelter from a guy I've never met. Same for any of Jasmine's other online friends.

Dammit, there's a reason I haven't told anyone about Jasmine's change. There just aren't any good options. I head for my dresser and start throwing clothes in a bag as if I'll find the answer mixed in with my shirts.

I jump when the buzzer sounds. A male voice comes over the intercom. "The current time is the time for the one who is called Jasmine to be meeting with the one who is the one that is to be met with at this time."

_Kraig_. It has to be him; even in New York City, there can't be two people who talk like that. My heart is pounding, but I aim for a calm voice. "Jasmine? I think Kraig is downstairs."

I hear from the bedroom, "Sophie, if this is a joke, it really isn't a funny one."

"Afraid I'm dead serious, sis. I'm going to go down and see if I can get some answers out of him."

"You're going to what? You've got to be _shitting_ me!" If Dad ever reappears, he's not going to be thrilled with what living with me has done to Jasmine's vocabulary.

I reach under the couch, closing my fingers around the wooden handle, and then grab the canister of pepper spray from my purse for good measure. "Lock the door behind me, Jasmine, and make sure you've got the taser ready."

Jasmine comes darting out of the bedroom. "I don't understand – why go down there, Sophie?"

_Because then I can stop him before he gets any closer to you_. "Because I'm sick of having questions and no answers." I head out the door before she can argue, and linger just a moment to hear her slide the deadbolt home.

As I'm heading into the stairwell, there's a loud crash from downstairs. What the hell? Is Kraig trying to break the door down? I tighten my grip on the bat and race down the stairs in a barely controlled plummet. I'm glad to see the door still in place, then I'm through it and looking around for Kraig. I have to peer through the dim light – damn, never did bug the super – to see there are two forms lying on the floor. _Are those bodies?_ Then I realize that a tall figure is emerging from the shadows, holding some sort of staff in front of it.

Holy shit, _that thing's not human_. I get an impressions of some sort of green-skinned – reptile? It's moving towards me, eyes focused on the bat, mouth opening. I don't like my odds – with that staff, it's got a much longer reach than I do. Then I remember the canister clutched in my left hand, bring it up, and douse its face with pepper spray as it starts to say, "We don't mean you any–"

The creature doubles over, coughing, but keeps its grip on the staff. _Still dangerous_. I swing the bat and deliver one solid blow to its head that drops it to the ground, where it lies still.

OK, what the hell is going on here? Is this green monster _Kraig_? Now I realize that it didn't sound like Kraig. I learn forward and peer at the unmoving form. I don't see any clothing except a mask over the eyes, but some sort of shell covers its torso and hips. Is that thing supposed to be a _turtle_?

There's yelling outside, accompanied by a pinging, rattling noise that I can't identify. I rush to the door and look out. The street is flashing light and dark as if pink-colored lightning is repeatedly striking. Ranks of men, holding what look like toy guns, but the colored flashes of light are coming from them. Other shapes, hard to make out, flicker in and out of the shadows, and each time they reappear one of the gun-wielders is gone.

I'm seriously starting to wonder what the hell I am _on_. This is weirder than the one time I dropped acid. (That asshole Nate thought it would be hilarious to slip me some without telling me about it first. He got a really thorough explanation of all the reasons that was not OK, afterward, right before I kicked him out of my apartment and my life.)

Another pinging noise, and one of those flashes of light hits the door, just a few feet from my head. The damn door just _melts_, the glass and metal folding in on itself and forming a puddle on the steps. Trip or no trip, I'm not sticking around for any more of that. I turn and bolt for the stairs, nearly tripping over the bodies on the floor. I'm not going to stop to examine them, I'm not going to stop for anything, I am getting back upstairs to Jasmine and praying to the God I don't really believe in that none of this is real. Or, if it is, that whatever forces are fighting out there take each other out and none of them show up at my apartment door.

I hammer at the door and Jasmine looses the deadbolt to let me in. Her eyes widen as I pant for breath. "What is it, Sophie? What happened?"

"I... not sure. There was this giant turtle, and then men with ray guns..."

Jasmine looks worried, but not about my sanity. I mark that down as another sign of how strange our lives have gotten. "What are we going to do, Sophie?"

I wish I knew. "For the moment? Sit tight and be ready to tase anyone who comes through the door. If... when... the coast is clear, we've got to get out of here."

"You never told me where we're going to go." Jasmine is flexing the fingers of her right hand, claws extending and retracting with each motion. She doesn't seem aware of it.

"We could try going back to Dad's place," I suggest hesitantly.

Jasmine's lower lip begins to quiver. Somehow, it makes her look less like a cat, more human. "I... I could try... I just keep seeing that ape ripping the door off its hinges and tossing it aside..."

I should have known for the first time, I really wish that she could talk to a therapist about this_._ I step closer and put an arm around her shoulders. "I'm not going to make you go back there, Jazz. It's all right. I'll call a friend and see if we can stay with her."

"How are you going to tell her about..." Jasmine waves her left hand over her face and other arm.

"It will be all right," I tell her, hoping she doesn't realize that I have no idea. Half an hour ago, I'd dismissed this option out of hand, but we're out of good ones. I pick up the phone and call NIkki.

She picks up right away. "Sophie! You change your mind about the game? We're down five at the half, we could sure use you."

"Nikki." I pause, realizing I have no idea what to say. A stalker, a human-shaped turtle, ray-gun-toting men, a red-haired girl, and an FBI agent – some of whom might be the same person, but I have no idea which – are after my sister? There's no way she'll believe that. _I_ barely believe that. I'm further distracted by the sound of sirens from the street. That must have been one hell of a 911 call.

"Sophie? You still there?"

"Sorry, Nikki. Look, I hate to ask, but Jasmine and I need a place to stay, right away. This guy's stalking her, and I need to get her somewhere safe. Can you put us up for a bit?"

"It's bad enough that you're willing to expose your baby sister to my influence? Shit, Sophie, of course you two can stay with me. Want to come meet me at the gym? Maybe spend a few minutes on the court, see if you remember where the hoop is?"

"Ha ha ha," I stall. There would be way too many eyes on Jasmine. "Ah... Jasmine's got a bit of a skin condition, and isn't really comfortable hanging around strangers. Maybe we can just wait at your building until you head home?"

Nikki's sigh comes across the phone as a thumping noise. "I'll head straight there, I should beat you to the door."

I can't tell if she's making me feel guilty on purpose or not. "Nikki, you don't have to do that, I know you're in the middle of the game, it'll take us a little while to get out of here..."

"Sophie, stop. Your sister is more important than our league standing. Plus, I want to clean up a bit before anyone sees my apartment." Her tone becomes gleeful. "And besides, I figure you'll owe me all kinds of favors. Do you know the address?"

"Er... no." I can't remember ever being over to Nikki's place, or having her over here for that matter. Gyms, clubs, and bars are our usual haunts. I write down the address that she gives me, and we say a quick goodbye.

Jasmine has crossed her arms in front of her chest and is staring daggers at me. "A _skin condition_, Sophie? Really?"

"Um... I was improvising? You're lucky I didn't say something even dumber. Let's finish packing and get out of here."

"I don't think she's going to buy it's a skin condition when she gets a look at me. Or are you planning to keep me hidden under a blanket as long as we're there?" Jasmine asks as she heads to the bedroom.

I follow her to the door. "It'll be easier to explain when she sees you… Hey, why are you heading for the computer? You need to pack!"

"I _am_ packed, sis, and I need to let Mikey know that I'm not going to be on for a while." Jasmine's tail is bushier than I've ever seen it. I decide it's prudent not to argue on this one. Besides, _I _need to finish packing.

I spend a few minutes throwing randomly selected clothes and toiletries into a bag. I hear loud caterwauls from the bedroom, then Jasmine emerges pulling a suitcase in one hand and holding a cat crate in the other. Erwin is clearly protesting his incarceration.

"Um, I didn't say anything to Nikki about bringing a cat…" Jasmine's bushy tail starts to twitch. "I'll just give her a quick call and let her know. You need to get covered up."

Nikki doesn't pick up her phone, so I leave a voicemail to warn her that she'll have one more house guest than she expects. Meanwhile, Jasmine pulls on the NYU hoodie and trench coat I picked up for her at Goodwill. She practically disappears into the oversized clothes. Not the height of fashion, but I have to hope that they'll keep anyone from getting a good look at her.

"I'll run down and make sure the coast is clear. Be back in a minute." I try to keep my voice calm for Jasmine's sake, even though my treacherous heart is thundering in my chest. I reluctantly pass up the bat, taser, and pepper spray. If anyone's down there now, it's probably New York's finest, and I don't need them thinking I'm armed. I unlock the door, slip through, and close it behind me.

"Nothing to worry about, they're all gone," I say softly to myself, repeating it as I head down the stairs. Somewhat to my surprise, the lobby is completely empty, with no sign of the figures I glimpsed on the floor earlier or the hulking one I'd put there myself. I could almost think I imagined the whole thing, but there's still a hole where the door to the street used to be, and melted remnants drying on the stairs. If the cops have been here, they're gone too.

I can't make any sense of this. Who cleaned this place up? I shake my head; there's no time to wonder about that now. If we have a chance to get out of here before Kraig, Red, that turtle-man – I'll call him Green – or whoever shows up again, we need to take it. I charge back up the stairs and through the apartment door – which Jasmine didn't lock, but there's no time to make an issue of that, either. "Everything looks clear," I say to her. "Grab your stuff and let's go."

I throw on my jacket and drop the pepper spray and taser in the pockets. That bat would be too conspicuous, and my hands are full with suitcase, briefcase, and a bag of cat food anyway. I lead the way down the stairs and out into the quiet street. I start striding toward the subway station and get half a block before realizing that I'm getting ahead of Jasmine, who seems to be struggling a bit with her suitcase and Erwin. She hasn't had enough chances for exercise in my apartment.I stop and wait for her, even though my legs are yearning to keep moving, and then slow my pace to stay beside her.

I can't shake the uncomfortable sensation that we're being watched. I eye everyone we pass suspiciously. That old man stumbling along with a cane, those raucous teenagers, that woman in a headscarf – are any of them paying too much attention to Jasmine? No one seems suspicious, but I keep looking around, afraid I'm missing something.

We've almost reached the stairs down into the subway when four men burst out of the cross street and start running toward us, gray, metallic objects in their hands. Jasmine doesn't seem to have seen them yet and is heading for the stairs, sounding a little winded. _There's no way she can outrun them_.

"Jasmine! Drop everything and _run_!" I yell at her. She turns, and I expect her to argue, but she spots the oncoming men and gives a quick nod. _Trusting me to take care of them. How am I going to do that?_ She lets go of the suitcase, but holds the crate to her body as she jogs down the stairs.

I can see the four men clearly now: white men in suits, oddly angular faces, nearly identical in appearance. They're holding the same strange guns I saw earlier, and their eyes are following Jasmine as she disappears down the steps. I know when it's time to set a screen.

"Right here!" I yell at them, throwing the briefcase at the one in front. He fumbles it away, and now I have their attention. I throw the suitcase as well, but now they're ready for it and dodge aside. I feel like there's something weird about their movements, but there's no time to think about it, because they're bringing their guns up. I dive into the stairwell for cover, scraping my leg and injured arm across the concrete steps. The arm screams in protest. I'm scrambling to my feet as the four figures appear at the top of the stairs, strange guns leveled in my direction. I remember a melting door, hold up the bag of cat food like a shield, and hope that at least I've managed to buy Jasmine enough time.


End file.
